Porcelein
by Lucy Hale
Summary: Bobby realizes something. Darien doesn't want to hear it. Slash.


Porcelain

__

In my dreams I'm dying all the time.  
As I wake it's kaleidoscopic mind.  


The tide is low. The sun's going down and the beach is like a frigging postcard. There's some kid walking a dog, a family camped out watching the sunset.

And a pretty young couple sitting close, gazing out at the water.

It's a Kodak moment. All serene and quiet, peaceful. Romantic. 

I'm not supposed to be back here. But I am. I'm not supposed to be tailing my own partner. He's taking time off. The last month, as a matter of fact. He's been sitting on his ass, waiting for his eyes to fix themselves. I've been working on other things. Less important things. Things they trust the psycho to handle without the aid of his invisible partner. 

Now me, I figured this time off would do Darien good. I figured he might just use it to get a grip on things. He's been adjusting fairly well, don't get me wrong. But a little time to step back and look at the last year of his life just might be in order for the kid. 

I also had an idea that I'd still get to see him. I mean, hell, we're partners. He was blind -- he was gonna need help, and who better to ask than your partner? We get along okay, and we're actually pretty close to being friends now. 

So I went to pay him some visits those first few days. Stopped by with lunch, that kind of thing. Helped the kid with some stuff he wasn't used to yet, like laundry. Easy stuff. I gave him hell for it, but I'm his partner. I'm supposed to. He gave it right back to me.

And then, like two weeks ago, I got a call from him. He tells me he's seeing light and shadows and things, and he's flipping out. I think some part of him didn't believe he was really gonna get his sight back, and he was just starting to believe it that day.

"That's great, kid," I said in return, 'cause it was. "Want me to take you out into the world tonight? Let you see some of the shadows outside your apartment?"

"Thanks, Hobbes, but I've got a prettier date than you in mind."

Funny, the things we realize when we look back at the past. Even a couple of weeks ago. I realize now that that was the beginning of the end for me. That one stupid, casual, joking little statement. 

At the time, though, I thought nothing of it. "You got a prettier date than Bobby Hobbes? This I gotta see."

"You've already seen. You remember Leila?"

"The _model_? How the hell did you bag her? Oh, wait. She's blind."

"Oh, funny guy. Hope that sense of humor keeps you company tonight, pal."

I laughed it off. We chatted, then hung up. 

Next day, he was out when I stopped for lunch.

And it just went bad from there. Half the times I'd call, he wouldn't be there. When I actually talked to him he was always on his way out, or already had plans. With Leila. 

There's nothing to be suspicious about there. I know that, and I knew it then. Still, something inside me just wanted to make sure Darien was really all right.

So I checked it out. One night I managed to reach Darien before he left, and got the name of the restaurant they were going to. 

So I went. And spying on them was ridiculously easy. Neither of them could see me, for one. I could sit and stare as blatantly as possible, and they would never know it. 

So I did. I went, and I ended up at the bar of the restaurant they went to, watching them the entire time they were there.

It was kinda interesting. Leila looked to be a regular there, the way people were greeting her. The blind thing didn't seem to be a problem at all. Even Darien had an easier go of it than I would have thought.

After they were sitting, it was easy to forget neither of them could see. I watched them for almost two hours in that place. They talked, they laughed. She was beautiful, he was cleaned up pretty nice himself. They were…well, hell, I guess they were a perfect couple. The kind of pretty, happy people who make the rest of us stare in resentment. The way I picture Viv and Brock looking when they go out these days.

Don't get me wrong -- this isn't about me. I've got no problem being around pretty people. They got their own problems. Me, I'm not that pretty, but I'm a hell of a lot more fun than Darien. Life of the party. People know my name in almost every bar in this town. They may not know what I really do for a living, or where I live, or my real last name, but they sure as hell know what a fun guy I am.

That's gotta count for something. 

I've got no envy for Darien. So it didn't make sense that while I sat there watching them that night, I started getting a little jealous. 

I'm not sure to this day what I was jealous of. Maybe the fact that they were both smiling so big, and looked so damned happy together, and I haven't had that since Viv. They looked so comfortable together. It reminded me how different it was to be with one person, instead of tearing through a different willing young woman every night. 

When they left, so did I. And I told myself I wasn't going to follow him anymore. What Darien did on his own time was his business. He wasn't committing any crimes, and this chick sure as hell wasn't a terrorist in disguise, so he was safe. 

Of course, two days later I was on his tail again, watching him get picked up by Leila's limo and driven to her place to spend the day. 

I'm obsessive, but I'm not nuts. Not most of the time, anyway. I didn't grab the binoculars and look in on them. I didn't even hang around that long to see how much time he spent there.

Instead I started the engine and drove away, and realized I had to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. Why was I acting so weird about this?

Jealousy. It kept burning in my brain, and it got worse every time he wasn't home to take a call. I was jealous. It was easy enough to figure out -- Darien had himself a supermodel. He wasn't working; he was spending every second with this leggy, gorgeous chick who was probably sweet and nice and everything else. What guy wouldn't be jealous?

That satisfied me for a while. But now it's starting to occur to me that when I watch them on this beach, it isn't her I'm watching. It's not her I'm wondering about, when she talks and I can't hear what she's saying. It's him. 

I want to know what Darien's talking about. I want to know what he's thinking. I want to be down there with him. Instead of her. 

I want to be the one he spent the day with, celebrating his last day of freedom before work started again. I wanted to be the one he went out with the day he started seeing shadows and realized his sight really was coming back.

I don't want to be the partner whose presence means Darien's back on the job. I want to be a pal he spends his time with. I want to make him grin the way she does. 

He's looking really thoughtful right now, gazing out at the water. I don't know what they're talking about, but it strikes me as being semi-serious. 

He's got his eyes shut, his face tilted up slightly like he's feeling the sun and the wind on his skin.

I like watching him like this. He's a different guy when he's with me. We gotta keep the back and forth thing going -- gotta be smart-ass, macho partners. There's no room for this kind of vulnerability with us. 

Maybe that's what I want. Maybe I want him to be more comfortable around me. I want him to be vulnerable and revealing and all that. 

For the first time in my life, I want to be more than Agent Hobbes to someone besides Viv. Strange that the feeling would strike me over Darien, who's just a friend. 

Hell, they're getting up now. I gotta back off before the kid sees me. It'd be easy to forget that he can see again, but luckily I'm more paranoid than that. 

I make my way over the rocks and out of sight. I know where they're going now. Back to her place. The usual. I never spy on them after this point. I don't really want to tally all the nights he sleeps over. 

I'll see him tomorrow.

****

Well, it was nice while it lasted. 

Seriously, who wouldn't want to stop their lives and take a month off to relax? Even if they had to be temporarily blinded to do it. Sure I could have had more fun in full health, but then I'd have been at work. As a choice, I wouldn't have made it. But seeing as how I had no choice in this case, I don't regret a second.

But today's the end. I'm up at seven in the morning for the first time in a month. Leila's flying to some shoot in Bali or someplace, and Hobbes will be here to pick me up in about a half hour. 

Fantasy life's over. Back to the grind.

I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not upset about Leila going. She's got the high-profile job, after all. She's got to take off to go on these shoots. And it isn't like she won't be back.

Funny thing, when I started seeing her socially a couple of weeks ago, I worried that she thought I'd only be doing it because she was blind and I needed help. I didn't stop to think that maybe she was just pitying me because I lost my own sight. But I'm getting that feeling. As soon as I told her I was back to a hundred percent, she got a little more distant. Next day, she tells me she has this photo shoot, and she'll be gone a month. Says I can't write or call, and she may not have time to call me.

Now, I'm dumb about a lot of things, but I'm not stupid. It doesn't take a lot of effort to find five minutes here or there in a month's time to call a pal. 

Nope, I figure she's done her duty, watching over the guy her old boyfriend left blind. And now she's on to bigger and better things than Darien Fawkes. 

I don't know why I'm surprised. This is a pattern I noticed early on. The only woman who's never deserted me is my aunt, and she was never exactly given the option. 

No, to be fair, she's gone out of her way not to desert me. She wrote me in prison, and when I went to visit her, thinking Kev was still alive, she was so happy to see me she didn't even care how I got out. 

So she's the exception. And of course aunts don't do much to keep the loneliness away late at night, you know? 

There must be some frigging thing wrong with me, that's all I can figure. I mean, if I go by what I'm told, and the reactions I get, I'm a pretty hot guy. I know how to work the charm; I'm reasonably nice, intelligent. Why is it I can't hang on to a woman? Why do they all find some reason to go running?

I think I'm developing abandonment issues. No, really. I read these journals sometimes, these psychological publications. Interesting stuff, what parts of it I can understand. And abandonment issues are pretty easy to come by these days, it turns out. 

Horn. I look out the window. Hobbes. He's here a few minutes early. Good thing I'm a fast dresser. 

As I go down the stairs, I kinda have to grin. Hobbes. He's not going anywhere anytime soon. No abandonment issue there. I just don't necessarily know if that's a good thing or not.

He's in the old, familiar van. Deja vu, big time. 

"Hey, Hobbes! Long time no see." 

"I see you found your sense of humor again," Bobby replies dryly as I get into the van.

"Yep. Came back right around the time my sense of sight started returning. Go figure."

He pulls the van out into traffic. "You want to stop and grab a bagel?"

"Sounds good to me." I look out the window, watching the world pass from out a dirty, stained window. It's hot -- the air conditioning in this piece of crap must be out again.

I glance back at Bobby, who seems fixated on the road. 

He notices me looking at him. "What?"

I heave a melodramatic sigh. "Yeah, I'm back at work now." 

He glances over, and to my surprise he doesn't smirk or make some smart-ass remark. His mouth tightens a little and he turns back to the road. "Enjoy the rush, kid," he says after a minute. His sarcasm sounds forced.

I wonder if something's wrong with him. Maybe he doesn't want to be working with me again. He's always talking about how under appreciated he is. Maybe his time alone got him some time in the spotlight, and now he doesn't want to be stuck with a partner again. 

Oh, hell. Am I gonna get abandoned after all? 

****

I don't know what the hell to say to the kid. I'm thinking some pretty messed up things lately, and I'm afraid if I say anything at all, some of those things are gonna be blurted out as well. Something like, 'So did you want lox on your bagel, or are you gonna stick with butter? Butter? Oh, okay, I love you.'

I can't even look at him; I'm so worried it might show on my face. Bobby Hobbes -- perverted man lusting after his own male partner. 

I'm not gonna try and justify it, even to myself. I already have to second guess everything I think and feel when I go talk to my shrink twice a week, I don't need to be doing it in my own head. There's little enough solace in being a nutcase to start sharing the rest of the world's doubt about yourself. 

She likes quotes. Darien was so psyched when he learned that that he came and let me know. Just so I knew he wasn't the only freak around.

Me, I like em. I've read so many books about head shrinking that I could probably start a practice. "Bobby Hobbes, PhD: 'Cause it Takes One to Cure One" I can see the commercials now.

So I was reading some book my doc recommended, by another doc, Theodor Reik, I think, though don't quiz me on spelling. And this guy says that work and love are basics in life. Without them, you get neurosis. So I'm thinking to myself last night, I'm a pretty neurotic guy. And I work a hell of a lot. 

So maybe Viv leaving screwed me up more than even I thought. Maybe I need someone to come home to at night. Maybe that would keep me from tailing Darien, and keeping tabs on his love life. 

Maybe I could kill both birds with one stone. If Darien was the one waiting for me at home…

See? See why I think I'm getting more nuts as the days go by? I'm in love with Darien. I want him to be in love with me.

Like I said, I'm not gonna question it. I'm not gonna ask myself why, or tell myself I shouldn't be feeling it. 

Nope, I'm just gonna sit here and be quiet, and enjoy the misery of being nothing to him.

Thing is, I don't think this can last much longer now. Now that I realize why I've been such a nut about Leila, I don't think I can be around Fawkes too much longer. 

The Boss told me once that when emotions get involved, people make mistakes. That's absolutely the truth, no matter how much I may have argued with him. It was true when he said it, and I proved it by botching an undercover operation 'cause I wanted Viv's new guy to be a criminal.

And it's true now. Love and partners don't mix, even if it's unspoken, unrequited love. I'm gonna start fucking things up, because I know how I feel now. 

I always looked out for Darien. He's my partner, and that means if there's a bullet coming for him, I take it if I can. 

It's gonna get worse from here, I know it. I recognize the neuroses that'll start popping up. I'm gonna start calling him at home whenever I'm not around him. I'm gonna tail him more often. If we end up in a number ten situation, I'm gonna be watching him, making sure he's safe, instead of taking out the perps. 

I know on an intellectual level that it just can't happen that way. I figure I might as well call an end to the whole thing. Darien'll probably be happy to see me go. The Boss won't mind much -- I may be their top guy, but what good am I if they can't trust me to stay stable? What good's an agent you can't send on anything alone, without his invisible partner or a team of other agents? 

It'd be worth turning in my resignation just to watch Eberts try to hide his glee. 

****

__

I never meant to hurt you  
I never meant to lie  
So this is goodbye  
This is goodbye

Bobby hasn't said much this morning. It's almost worrying me. He's not the friendliest guy on the planet, but he's always good for some strange, self-serving conversation. 

We went to breakfast before coming here, and he still didn't say much. He hardly even looked at me. 

I know something's wrong, but I have no idea if it's within the boundaries between us to ask him about it. He's sure as hell not volunteering any information. 

We take seats in the Official's office, and he's looking more tense than I've seen him in a while. 

"Alright, boys, we've got something nice and juicy for you. A man named Balthazar Get--"

"Hey, Boss, I gotta talk to you first."

The Official stops dead and stares at Bobby. I can't help staring myself. 

Bobby's looking pale. I'm really starting to think something's wrong here.

"Can we talk alone for a minute?" He's rephrasing the request, not taking it back. Strange.

"Fawkes is your partner. There something you can't say in front of him?" There's the old Official, not giving Bobby an inch.

Bobby glances over at me, then quickly back at the Boss. "Fine. I…uh, I'm gonna leave."

The Official blinks. "You feeling sick, Agent Hobbes? If you don't have a doctor's note, forget it."

A doctor's note? What is this, kindergarten? I can't believe the loyalty Bobby has for this guy. He treats him like shit every chance he gets. 

"No." Bobby shifts slightly, then stands up. "I mean, I'm leaving. The Agency." He pulls out a folded piece of paper and drops it in front of the Official. "You need it in writing, there it is. I know you'd rather have two weeks notice or something, but I figure we'll all be better off if I just go now."

He heads for the door.

This is some kind of strange joke to be playing my first day back. Something inside me makes me reach for the paper he dropped, certain it's gonna be some long, formal, typed out resignation he worked for an hour on just to watch our faces.

I unfold the paper, and see four words.

I quit.

Bobby Hobbes

Shit. He's serious. I don't know why the informal, blunt words convince me more than anything else, but I know suddenly that he's really serious. He's gonna leave the Agency.

I get up and go after him, and the door's shut on the Boss and Eberts before either of them can say a thing. They're probably in shock, too. 

"Hobbes?" 

He doesn't glance back, just keeps walking. "See you around, Fawkes."

"What the hell? Bobby, stop."

He obeys, turning back with a sigh. "What?"

"What the hell is this? What're you trying for here? I don't get it."

He laughs faintly. "I'm trying to resign, Fawkes."

"I don't believe it. You? No way in hell."

Bobby shrugs. "Don't believe, believe, whatever." He turns and starts for stairs again.

I'm right on his tail. "Why would you leave? What are you gonna do? Tell me this is some big joke, Bobby."

"No joke, pal. Reason's personal, and I got no idea what I'll do. I'm sure I can find something."

I catch up with him finally, working those long legs of mine to catch his quick strides. I grab him by the shoulder and turn him around. "Bobby, wait! Jesus. Why are you doing this?"

He meets my eyes, and something flashes across his face. "Does it really matter, kid? They'll find you someone else."

"Yeah it matters. You're my partner. I thought we were pals."

"We can be pals, Fawkes. Doesn't have to change."

"But we can't be partners?"

"Got it in one."

I just stand there, gawking at him. 

He smiles slightly. "Good luck, Fawkes." 

I stop him before he can leave again. "No."

"What?"

"No. I'm not letting you leave without an explanation. You owe me, Bobby."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm your partner!"

"Not anymore."

God, it's like talking to a three-year-old. I hate it when he gets in these deliberately obtuse moods. "You don't think you owe me anything?"

Bobby shrugs. "I don't know. You think I do?"

"Hell yes!" My voice is rising, but I don't care. Who's gonna listen in? 

He looks at me in that neutral, Bobby Hobbes way. "You're getting kinda excited."

"Fuck you! Tell me what's going on in your head, Bobby. I don't think you're the kind of guy who would leave his job and his partner for no reason. There's something you're not telling me, and it's not fair."

"Fair." He smirks, and I'm half-sure he's gonna say something about how life isn't fair, and I'm gonna have to punch him.

He doesn't, though. "Look, I'm sorry about this. I know it's kinda sudden." His smile has faded, and this look appears in his eyes, and I think it's the saddest look I've ever seen on another person. "No one else is gonna sweat this, kid. Don't bother thinking twice about me."

He turns again. He's leaving, again. 

This is getting ridiculous. Something is really wrong, to put that look on his face. I follow him, yet again. "I'm not letting you get away that easy, pal."

"You should," he says without turning back or slowing down. "I'm a psycho. I'm a loony. You can't trust me. I can't even trust me. You need someone else as a partner, kid."

"That's bullshit. I do trust you. I trust you more than anyone else I've ever met."

Bobby slows down at that, looks over his shoulder as I catch up to him. "You shouldn't," he says simply. 

"Why not?"

"Because. Jesus, Fawkes. Have you not heard one word these people have said about me? I can't even trust myself. I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do one minute to the next. That's no good, not when other people gotta depend on me."

I don't buy it. "I don't buy that, Bobby. You're a good agent, and everyone knows it. You've never said anything about any of this before. Why now?"

"Because. Can't you leave anything alone?" He's losing that fake casualness he's been trying to pass off. 

"This isn't anything. This is my partner trying to leave me alone in this hellhole Agency. You can't just leave me here like this, Bobby." My abandonment thing, coming out full-force. Pretty accurate for a self-diagnosis.

Bobby faces me, that sad look still in his eyes. "You're better off with me gone."

"I don't believe it. And you couldn't convince me."

He grabs me by the front of my shirt and hauls me down to his level. A strange, intense moment where he's staring right into my eyes, trying to see in to my soul, it feels like, and then suddenly he pulls me forward more and he comes forward. A pressure appears as we make contact right on the mouth, and for a quick, hard moment I don't really put it together.

And then I do. He's kissing me. 

And then suddenly he's not. His hands are gone, and I'm pulling back in shock. 

His eyes meet mine, and he nods slightly. "Convinced?"

I don't know what to say. I don't think I could talk now if I wanted to.

He turns and starts off again, and this time I don't follow him.

Not until he's out of sight. 

And then my brain starts working again, and I realize what just happened. He kissed me. And he's leaving.

I start after him, wondering if we're gonna do this stop and start chase all the way to his apartment. "Bobby, wait! For Christ's sake--"

"What?" He sounds pissed now. "Why are you still coming after me?"

That makes me mad. "What? You just did that to throw me off, so I'd believe you were nuts enough to let you leave?"

"No! Jesus, Darien. Take the hint. I meant it. That's the whole problem."

That slows me down. "Can we talk about this? Can you stop moving for one minute?"

He does. "Fine. I won't leave until you tell me to." He faces me. "You need to say something?"

"What…what are you telling me here, Bobby? You wanted to…kiss me, so you have to quit?"

Bobby stares at me. 

I realize that's as good as a yes. So for a minute I just stand here. What the hell…Bobby's got some thing for me? Bobby isn't gay. Neither am I. 

Shit, that scares me. I don't want to lose Bobby -- he's a good friend and I couldn't imagine being here without him to back me up and make it more livable. But I'm not gay. How am I supposed to react to this?

He seems to read my thoughts. "I didn't do that for any kind of reciprocation, you know," he says mildly. "Just wanted to show you the problem. No matter how you feel about it, I can't be your partner anymore."

"Yes, you can. We'll make it work somehow."

"You don't get it, Darien. You don't know how I am. You heard Viv -- I'm crazy. It'd just get worse after this. If we get into some bad situation, I'm gonna think about you and not the bad guys. It's gonna get someone killed."

I shake my head. "You do that anyway, Bobby. You're always looking out for me. I don't get how it's different now."

"Not different. Just…more." He shrugs. 

"So you're going to abandon me here? I didn't have you pegged as the type to desert his friends." I know it's a low blow, but I'm kind of desperate here. 

He draws back, looking slightly stung by that. "I'm not deserting you."

"Sure you are. You're leaving me here with the Boss and Eberts and the bad guys. You're gonna get me paired up with some Agency yes-man who's not gonna be any fun and whose not gonna be you, and that's not gonna work. You can't do that to me."

"What do you want from me?" His eyes are showing the first evidence of helplessness I've ever seen on Bobby Hobbes, and I almost feel bad for this. Almost, but the need to have him there with me is too strong. 

"I want you to stay. Stop acting like everything's different. It's not. Nothing is. You're as neurotic as you ever were, and I still need you as much as I ever did. Nothing's different."

He looks down, uncertain. "I already turned in my resignation."

"Oh, come on. We'll go in together and laugh at them for falling for the joke. Or maybe you could actually get a raise out of this. The Official knows he can't afford to lose you, he just never figured you'd leave."

"Him and everyone else, huh?"

I shrug.   


He doesn't look too happy about it, and I'm almost afraid I didn't get through to him.

But he starts moving, this time back towards the office and the Official. And his job.

I come up behind him and walk with him, a hand going over his shoulder in friendship, in silent thanks for him letting me sucker him like that.

I realize suddenly that there's still a problem. He's got some kind of feelings for me, something that made him kiss me. Something so deep he almost quit the job he lives for over it. 

But I don't say anything. And I hope he takes my silence as an answer, and doesn't bring it up again.

****

  
_Tell me the truth,  
you never wanted me  
Tell me_

He doesn't love me, but it's no big surprise. I'm walking with him back to the office, to take back the decision I lost sleep over last night, but that's no big surprise either. I should have known he'd be able to talk me into anything. 

This is going to suck. It's going to hurt me to be with him as partners. I'm not going to be able to forget that I kissed him, and he won't either. It'll be there, no matter how hard we both try to ignore it. 

I love him. But he's gonna go out with Leila again, or the next chick who comes around, and I'm gonna have to throw out more of those smart-ass macho responses to it. It won't fool either of us, but it'll be necessary.

This hurts. I had no idea how much it would hurt. I think walking out the door and having no one come after me wouldn't have hurt so much as walking back to the office with Darien so silently. 

But I won't say anything else. It's out there, and if it ever changes, I'm sure we'll both know it. In the meantime, I've got a job to do. I've got to watch out for my partner. 

I've got to forget my feelings. I've got to stop feeling them.

Maybe I'll go to my shrink and get my dosage upped. And pick up some sleeping pills. I'm never gonna get to sleep at night this way.

We're never going to get to be friends. I know that. I've fucked it up. It's funny. I wanted to be more to Darien than just his partner. Now I'm never going to be anything else. 

__

In my dreams I'm jealous all the time  
As I wake I'm going out of my mind  
Going out of my mind


End file.
